Friends with Benefits
by Gene Grace Kelly
Summary: What would you call this relationship? Are we friends? Or are we... something else' 'I think,' Bruce started hesitantly, 'that we might be... something in between.'


**Friends with Benefits**

Whenever Bruce came home from a night of patrol or rounding up the escaped prisoners of Arkham, it occurred to him that he wasn't happy. Not that he would show it, of course—not even Alfred knew that little piece of information. But every time he entered the Cave with a fresh batch of bruises and a splitting headache, he would go through the same thought process.

'What good was he really doing?' he would ask himself.

No matter how many drug dealers, rapists, thieves, _criminals_ he brought down, there were still hundreds waiting to take their places.

A world without crime was impossible.

So why did he bother trying?

At this thought, Bruce would always put his masked face into his hands and grit his teeth, refusing to remove the cowl (it seemed that thoughts such as these were always handled better when he was the Batman, the coldhearted crime fighter instead of Bruce, the human being).

Inevitably, he would always come to the same conclusion:

He tried because he made a promise. He made a promise that night his parents were killed that he would rid this city of the crime that plagued it, and if there's one thing they managed to teach him before they died, it is that he should never go back on his word.

Following this, he would engage in one of his favourite pastimes, the one that the entire Justice League and anyone who knew him at all liked to call _brooding_ (only when they thought he couldn't hear, but of course he did—he _is_ Batman, after all).

None of them knew what Bruce thought about when he was brooding, and if they did they probably would never jest about the activity so lightly. Bruce knew this, and so forgave them each time they referenced his habit with a laugh or a sigh or even a smirk. In his own way, he allowed them what they liked to think of as a small insight into his mind, and what he liked to think of as their misguided attempts to get to know the man behind the bat.

When Bruce was brooding, he became much, much darker than even Batman normally was. He became almost like a different person, with such a different frame of mind.

Nor was it a _good_ frame of mind for him to be in, and—as Alfred could well tell you—you never wanted to disturb him when he was brooding.

Yet there was someone about to do it anyway. Someone very close to him; a very kind, compassionate someone, waiting at the entrance to his friend's sanctuary. That someone was his best friend and the closest thing Bruce Wayne had to a confidante (Alfred Pennyworth excepted, of course): Superman.

It took a long time for Bruce to say anything to him. When he did, it was merely a curt, 'What are you doing here?'

Superman decided to take that as an indication that he could move closer. He did, and decided to walk over instead of floating or outright flying, which no doubt would have irritated the already troubled Bruce. When he was only arm's length away (the closest he was ever allowed without a direct signal from Bruce), he replied with a small, worried frown, 'I came to make sure you were alright.'

Bruce scowled (in his mind, no one but Alfred was allowed to worry about the Batman) and told him, 'I'm obviously fine, so please leave. Now.' He left the 'I want to be alone' unsaid; the reminder of a sullen teenager would have been too strong for his liking.

Superman took a step closer—a small one, but enough to put Bruce on edge. He shook his head, looking down at his friend still seated at the computer and said, 'I'm not sure you are, Bruce.'

Superman received a scowl for his efforts, but was otherwise ignored. He decided to push a little harder. He cleared his throat loudly, but Bruce did not look at him or even acknowledge the sound. With a sigh, Superman asked, 'What are you thinking about?'

The fingers flying over the keys of the computer halted for a moment, and as they started back up again, Bruce answered, '"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."' Superman blinked a few times before asking for clarification.

With a sigh, his friend explained, 'Gotham. All too often she treats me like a former lover with whom her relationship ended very badly.'

'It isn't _Gotham_, Bruce. It's the scum you have to deal with all of the time,' Superman said. But those two simple sentences had afforded him a very interesting insight into his friend's mind. It told him that even though Batman sat before him, Bruce was the one doing the talking. It told him that his friend was frustrated. It told him that his friend was getting tired.

Bruce didn't reply, so Superman decided to make the next move. Gently placing a hand on his friend's shoulder, he opened his mouth to speak when he noticed Bruce attempt to hide a wince. 'What happened?' he asked, removing the offending hand.

'Nothing,' snapped Bruce. Superman didn't know why he got so defensive about receiving wounds—he was only human, after all, and it was amazing that he was able to fight crime as he did in the first place. 'I'm fine.'

'Bruce.' In that one word, Superman tried to express his concern for his friend, his exasperation at him and his disbelief at Bruce's sorry attempt at a reassurance.

The younger man drew his hands away from the keyboard and stood, looking down at the ground. Softly, he said, 'I'm tired, Clark.'

They both understood that he didn't just mean in need of sleep (which he desperately was), but in need of _rest_. And, as far as Superman was concerned, comfort.

He reached out and took hold of the cowl and lifted it away from the other's face, letting it fall behind his head. Slowly, Bruce's unmasked face turned upward towards Superman's, and their eyes met.

'I know,' answered Superman, and gently pressed their lips together.

The kiss was gentle—sweet, even—and in it they both seemed to be trying to convey their feelings to the other. Superman felt with startling clarity Bruce's desperation and the sense of a void, a hole in his heart that had been there for a long, long time. In return, he hoped that Bruce could feel his reassurance, hope and love.

It was little more than a pressing of lips, but it was more than enough for the two. When it was over, neither said a word as Superman helped Bruce out of the costume and upstairs to bed.

X

Later that night, as the two lay next to each other in the darkness, Bruce said, 'Have you ever thought about dying?'

It took his companion a moment to find the right way to answer that. It was no longer Superman, the invincible symbol, answering, but neither could it be Clark, the meek journalist. He decided to be as honest as possible, settling on being Kal for the moment.

'Yes,' he replied, 'I have. Why?'

There was a pause before Bruce continued, responding to Kal's question with one of his own. 'Have you ever wanted to?' Something in his friend's—lover's?—voice made him sure that this was more than just a question.

'Once or twice, when I was a teenager. But I always got over it quickly,' he said mildly. 'What about you, Bruce?' Kal prepared himself for the evasive answer or even complete silence he was sure to come.

He got neither.

'Yes,' the other told him bluntly. 'For a while, after... my parents. Then it went away for a long time when I decided to be angry instead of sad. It came back, though. Eventually.'

'And now?' asked Kal, concerned. He propped himself up on one elbow to see Bruce better.

'Not lately.'

Kal nodded. 'Good.' He gave Bruce a quick kiss before laying back down and attempting to sleep. He pretended to miss Bruce's soft 'not with you.'

X

That was the first (and both planned to make it the last) night they spent together as something more than friends, though that was only one of the reasons Kal remembered it so clearly. That conversation bothered him more than he cared to admit, but he had forced it from his mind.

Nine years later, just after the death of Jason Todd, he remembered Bruce's words. He flew to Gotham, after the whole incident was over, and panicked when he could not be found in the Cave. Kal had been sure that his friend would be on the computer, trying to distract himself with other cases.

He looked in all of the rooms of the Manor save the bedroom, where he had known he would most likely find Bruce when he wasn't in the Cave. Kal knocked several times, softly, before being met with Bruce's gruff invitation to enter.

Stepping into the room, he took in the scene before him with some amount of alarm. Bruce sat cross-legged on the bed, three things laid out before him: Dick's old Robin costume, the shredded remains of Jason's costume and a small gun.

'What are you doing?' he asked, not taking his eyes away from where they had come to rest on the gun.

'When I got back, I tried to decide what three items were most important to me. I chose these three. Do you know why?' Bruce paused for a moment, but not long enough for Kal to give an answer. 'This was Dick's. It reminds me of how things used to be between us, before we started fighting.' Bruce absent-mindedly traced the R on the suit, a small, sad smile on his face. Kal said nothing. He continued. 'This was Jason's. Seeing it in this condition reminds me... of how I failed him.' Kal was about to protest, but decided to let his friend go on. With a shake of his head to clear his thoughts, Bruce moved on to the third item on the bed. 'This is the gun I was planning to use to kill the man who murdered my parents.' Kal felt as if he had just been hit with a semi-truck. The very idea of Bruce _killing_ was... it was _sickening_. He latched on to the phrase "planning to"—he knew Bruce would never have actually done it, no matter how much he may have wanted to.

'What happened?' asked Kal.

'It was at his parole hearing. I took the gun with me and hid it under the sleeve of my coat. But after he left the courtroom, he was walking towards me, and then... someone else got him first,' answered Bruce, slowly turning his head to look at his friend. 'I honestly don't know if I would have done it or not.' When Kal remained silent, Bruce turned back to the items on the bed. For several minutes neither said a word, and they heard the muffled sound of the grandfather clock in the hallway chiming midnight.

Kal cleared his throat. 'I'm glad the choice was taken away from you. You know better now.' But Bruce merely laughed bitterly and ran a hand through his hair. The sound tore at Kal's heart, and he had to fight very hard against the impulse to hold himself back from leaping at Bruce and hugging him until everything was alright again.

'That's the thing,' began Bruce, his voice strangely calm, 'I _don't_ know better. After... what happened to Jason, I wanted to kill Joker. I _would_ have killed Joker. I was so angry... It was like I was back in college and I had a gun and my self-righteous anger as justification for anything I did.'

'You were angry, yes, but I doubt you would have actually done it,' Kal said. In his thoughts, he hoped fervently that this was so. 'I have faith in you, Bruce.'

Again he heard that bitter, self-deprecating laugh. He shivered.

'That's more than I can say about myself.' Kal frowned, and said nothing. Instead he took the uniforms and the gun off of the bed and put them down in the Cave before climbing into Bruce's bed uninvited, though not entirely unwelcome.

X

The next day, when Bruce left for a business meeting ('The world doesn't stop for anyone, and it certainly won't do so for me. Even if I _am_ Bruce Wayne,' he had said.), Kal wandered down to the kitchen where Alfred was cleaning.

'Good morning,' he said as he took a seat at the kitchen table. Alfred handed him a cup of coffee before he even had time to realise he wanted it. _He's good_, Kal thought with a smile.

'Good morning to you as well, Master Clark,' answered Alfred. The two spent some time in comfortable silence, Kal reading the newspaper left behind by Bruce while Alfred continued to tidy up the already spotless kitchen.

Finally, Alfred spoke. 'I suppose it is not my place to say, but Master Bruce is being quite the fool at present.'

'How so?' asked Kal with a frown, folding up the paper. Talking about Bruce was much more interesting than reading about basketball.

'He refuses to call Master Dick and inform him of the situation,' Alfred told him. 'I daresay it would do him a world of good to speak to his remaining son, but Master Bruce can be quite stubborn and he has somehow gotten the impression that Master Dick never wants to hear from him again.'

'What? That's ridiculous,' said Kal. 'I know Dick and even if he isn't on _speaking terms_ with Bruce, he still talks about him like he walks on water, whether he realises it or not. So where would Bruce get the idea that Dick doesn't want to talk?'

'Master Dick screamed it at him during their final fight, when Master Bruce requested that he give up the role of Robin,' explained Alfred. 'Apparently Master Bruce does not understand the concept that teenagers are extremely dramatic and prone to saying things they do not mean.'

'Did he do that when he was a teenager?' asked Kal, momentarily forgetting the subject of the conversation in the face of his curiosity and a willing source.

'No,' said Alfred plainly, looking at him with a rather sad, somber expression. 'No, he did not. I can count on one hand the number of times Master Bruce has said something he did not fully mean.'

'That does sound like Bruce,' replied Kal with a small smile. He forced his mind back to the original topic of conversation. 'I'll try talking to him about Dick.'

'Thank you, Master Clark.' For some reason, parental figures were always very good at manipulating him. Perhaps he should work on that.

Then again, Kal thought as Alfred handed him one of his chocolate chip cookies—still warm—perhaps it wasn't so bad.

X

He went out to dinner with Bruce three weeks later at some expensive, high-class restaurant that was almost entirely silent save for the violin music gently floating through the building and the soft clicking of silverware.

Kal didn't feel very comfortable here, pretending to be the meek reporter out for dinner with his semi-friend the billionaire. He didn't even have to feign Clark Kent's usual awkwardness—in the suit he wore, he felt awkward enough.

After about fifteen minutes of staring at the menu trying to find something that wouldn't make him want to vomit and exchanging less than twenty words with Bruce, Kal found himself losing patience. That's when he noticed the distinct frown on Bruce's face and the flicker of irritation in his eyes as he scanned the menu.

'Bruce?' Kal said quietly.

'Hmm?' answered his friend distractedly, looking at their wine list.

'Do you really like it here?' asked Kal, frowning as he set down his menu.

'Sure I do,' was Bruce's immediate response. After a moment, however, he too set down his menu and looked up at his friend. With a small grin, he said, 'No, actually.'

'Wanna go somewhere else?' suggested Kal. Bruce's grin spread enough to actually be considered a smile.

'Sounds good to me.'

X

An hour later, the two friends found themselves to be the last two people in a small Italian joint, suit jackets off and ties undone, laughing over their half-eaten pineapple-topped pizza. Kal felt good, knowing his friend wasn't brooding over what happened to Jason. Neither one had mentioned it; Bruce didn't want to talk about it, apparently, and Kal didn't want to ruin his good mood.

As the restaurant's owner informed the two that it was near to closing time, the two stood and thanked him before leaving. On their way out, Bruce started to pull out his cell phone to ask Alfred to pick them up, but Kal caught his wrist.

'I'd like to talk to you about a few things,' he explained at Bruce's raised eyebrow. 'Now seems like as good a time as any.' Bruce paused for a moment before nodding.

'Sure,' he consented easily, sliding his hand back out of his suit pocket as Kal let him go. 'The park's right across the street. Want to go for a walk?' Kal nodded, and the two set out across the street.

The park was nice, Kal decided. It was calmer, softer than the rest of Gotham. It didn't have the same _edge_ to it, the feeling that you were constantly living precariously on the edge.

He could definitely see why Bruce's alter ego was so dark. It was a product not only of his past, but of the influence of his city. They were tied to each other, Kal knew, and a dark lady like Gotham needed a dark partner, and Batman had stepped up to take on the momentous task of keeping her and her citizens safe.

And just as surely as he knew that, Kal also knew that Bruce would probably die in the effort of ridding his city of crime.

'What did you want to talk about?' prompted Bruce when he realised Kal wasn't going to start the conversation on his own. Whatever he wanted to talk about, Bruce knew it must be important for Kal not to get straight to the point (he knew it irritated Bruce when he beat around the bush).

'Hmm?' answered Kal, obviously distracted. 'Oh.' He slid his hands into his pants pockets and stared straight ahead as he cleared his throat and asked, 'What is this, Bruce?'

Genuinely confused, Bruce said, 'What is what, Clark?'

'_This_,' said Kal as he stopped walking and turned to stare at his friend. 'Us.'

'Oh,' said Bruce softly. He had been hoping Kal would be content to just leave it and let it be what it was. He knew he was up for that. '_Oh_.'

'Yeah,' said Kal with a half-smile that reminded Bruce strongly of the Mona Lisa, '_Oh_.' When Bruce looked down at his feet, seeming to have nothing more to say, Kal sighed and continued, hoping to draw out an answer. 'What would you call this relationship? Are we friends? Or are we... something else?'

'I think,' Bruce started hesitantly, 'that we might be... something in between.'

'Something in between,' repeated Kal, half to absorb this phrase and half as a request for more clarification on Bruce's part. His... _friend_ seemed to understand that.

'I mean, we do things that friends do,' Bruce began, and Kal could tell that he was speaking at least in part to himself. 'But we also... um. Yes.' Kal couldn't help it—he laughed.

'Oh, Bruce,' he said, smiling down at the younger man. It occurred to Kal that he had never seen Bruce Wayne _or_ Batman blush before, but he wisely decided not to comment. 'I don't think I've heard it referred to as "um, yes" since high school.' Bruce grinned back sheepishly, and all of this told Kal that Bruce was at least as embarrassed and confused as he himself was. That was comforting, being on the same level as the Batman.

'Yet we aren't exclusive to each other,' said Bruce, going on a bit more seriously, his blush melting away, leaving his pale, smooth skin. He was so young, Kal thought, at least in body. He was too young to have seen everything that he had, and yet it had all happened. Kal forced himself to focus on Bruce's words again. 'You're still seeing Lois Lane still, and I'm seeing... well, I'm seeing people.'

Kal smirked, knowing exactly what Bruce meant. He would never have time for a committed relationship, being Batman, but as Bruce Wayne, it was perfectly alright to engage in a series of one-night-stands with the daughters of Gotham's finest citizens. Everyone thought that Bruce Wayne had slept his way through the ranks of Gotham's ladies, and Kal was the only one in the Justice League to realise that this was at least partially true.

There were even some rumours floating around about Gotham's men, but until... _recently_, Kal hadn't been very inclined to listen to those.

'So we're more than friends, but less than "something more," to borrow your phrase,' Bruce concluded, his confidence returning to him.

Suddenly Kal smirked, remembering a certain conversation he'd had with Kon about the Teen Titans...

'Friends with benefits?' said Kal. Bruce looked at him as if he had grown two heads.

'Where on earth did you come up with _that_ phrase?' he asked. Kal laughed.

'That's what Kon said about himself and Dick.'

Oh, how he wished he had a camera to preserve the look on Bruce's face forever. _Priceless_.

'He... _what_.'

'Nevermind,' Kal sighed, deciding to spare his friend any more embarrassment that night. 'The point is, I think that phrase is appropriate for us.'

Bruce thought about it for a minute or so before nodding. 'Yes. Friends with benefits. _Good_ friends.' He smirked and Kal laughed.

As they began walking again, Kal cleared his throat and said, 'I talked to Alfred a while ago...'

X

Several months passed between the two friends. Their relationship suited both of them quite nicely, they found. They would go out as friends did, and sometimes they would go back to Bruce's house for the night. Sometimes they would go back to Kal's apartment. Sometimes they would part ways, waving and promising to call (which they always did). Sometimes, when the circumstances demanded that Batman and Superman show themselves, when the conflict was over, they would go back to the Watchtower or the Hall of Justice.

Few people knew what went on between them and fewer still acknowledged it. (Since one of the parties involved was _Batman_, most were too afraid to say anything.) One of those brave souls was Diana—Wonder Woman.

She was sitting in the cafeteria with Superman, eating lunch in a quiet corner while most people crowded around a table in the centre to watch Vixen arm wrestle with Hawkgirl (Kal wondered when they would decide to get over their rivalry—probably when John decided to settle on one of them). As they ate, Diana was trying to decide how to start this conversation. She decided to jump right in and hope for the best.

'So,' she said after swallowing a mouthful of mashed potatoes, 'you and Bruce?' She noticed the way Kal didn't seem surprised outwardly, but his eyes gave him away. He thought they had been being sneaky, apparently.

'What about Bruce and me?' asked Kal mildly, sounding a tad too disinterested. Diana thought that dating Batman would give her alien friend better deception skills, but apparently not.

'Are you two an item?' she asked bluntly. Kal opened his mouth to respond and promptly shut it again. She smirked. It was nice to get the upper hand once in a while.

The smile immediately melted away as she heard a deep, gravelly voice behind her responding to her question.

'No.' Unsurprisingly, when she turned, she saw Batman standing behind her, a folder in hand. What _was_ surprising was the smile she knew he was fighting to hide. 'We're not actually dating.' His eyes met Kal's, which the Kryptonian took as a go-ahead signal.

'We've decided on the term "friends with benefits",' Kal explained patiently, and he though he fought valiantly to stifle his laughter at Diana's expression, he just _couldn't_.

Bruce didn't seem to mind when half the superheroes in the cafeteria made their way over to investigate. He told them with a perfectly straight face that Superman was laughing about telling Diana that they were "friends with benefits." Of course, few knew that was true and even fewer entertained the possibility of a relationship between the two best friends.

It only made Kal laugh harder.

X

A year went by. Their routine continued. When Kal wasn't with him, Bruce would sleep with various women he met at charity events and the other dreadful parties he was forced to go to. When Bruce wasn't with him, Kal would continue to court Lois Lane in the guise of Clark Kent (extremely unsuccessfully).

In that year, Bruce adopted Tim. Kal met him and approved of the boy, especially when he saw him training. Both men could tell that this boy would make an extremely good Robin.

They should have known better than to sleep together the night before Dick came home to help with Tim's training (Kal's idea—he had finally gotten Bruce and Dick on speaking terms, and Tim was eager to help mend the rift between the two).

Neither Kal nor Bruce should have been surprised when the door opened the next morning and they heard a surprised, 'Oh.' Yet they were.

They had become used to being able to sleep in as long as they wanted—Alfred never disturbed them, and Tim never went into Bruce's room.

Bruce sat up and ran a hand through his messy hair (which Kal found _extremely _attractive as he had found recently that he rather liked the mussed look on Bruce—but that was beside the point) and simply looked over at his two sons standing in the doorway. Dick was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and smirking widely. Tim, far more startled, was standing just behind him, eyes wide.

'This is an interesting welcome home,' said Dick. Bruce rolled his eyes, and Kal marveled at how composed his friend was. If it had been Kon who found them in bed together, Kal knew _he_ would have been looking like a cherry right about then.

'Don't be a wise ass,' Bruce said before letting himself fall back onto the pillows. 'I'm sure Alfred has breakfast ready. We'll be down in a while.'

'Let me guess,' said Dick, just barely holding in his laughter, 'I shouldn't expect you down for... say... an hour?'

'Of course,' said Bruce, as this were obvious. 'We'll need time to... _relax_... before dealing with you kids.'

Dick winked, laughed and turned away, ushering a thoroughly shocked Tim down the hallway.

'So what are we _really_ going to use that hour for?' asked Kal, turning his head to face Bruce. The wicked gleam in his friend's eyes told him he was in trouble.

'We,' he said, smirking, 'are going to have some nice, hot sex before going down to deal with the kids.'

As Bruce rolled over onto him, Kal found that he really didn't mind that idea.

X

A few days later, Bruce returned to the Cave early from a night of patrolling, deciding to let Tim handle the rest of it. Things had been surprisingly quiet in Gotham, which normally would have had Bruce jumping at every noise and more paranoid than The Question(1), but now he found himself strangely calm.

It was nearing midnight when Alfred went looking for him in the Cave, sighing when he found Bruce was not there. Expecting him to be out on patrol still, he was surprised to find the man sitting in the kitchen, a glass of milk and several of Alfred's cookies (left over from Kal's last visit—Alfred had gotten into the habit of making them whenever he visited) in front of him.

'It's good to see you out of the Cave at a decent hour, Master Bruce,' said Alfred, smiling at him.

'Things have been better in Gotham lately,' replied Bruce. 'I figured Tim can handle patrol tonight. He likes the freedom.' Alfred gave a nod of approval.

'If I might say so, sir,' Alfred began, and Bruce looked up again with a raised eyebrow as Alfred continued, 'things seem to have been better in your life in general lately.'

'Yes,' confirmed Bruce with a smile. 'They have.' There was a few minutes of companionable silence before Alfred decided to speak again.

'When is our Kryptonian friend going to be visiting again?' asked Alfred, and Bruce looked back down at his glass of milk again. The butler knew he was attempting—and failing—to hide his widening smile.

'Soon,' he answered. 'Probably later this week.' Alfred turned around and began to put away the rest of the cookies.

'Very good, sir. Though you might want to advise Master Tim not to go near your room—he continually blushed each time he heard Master Clark mentioned in conversation.'

Bruce couldn't help it—he laughed.

X

(1): The Question is the DC Comics character without a face, in case you didn't remember, and he is a conspiracy theorist, hence the comment about paranoia.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to DC Comics except that one t-shirt and a few movies.

A/N: So I wanted to show a very dark Bruce and also a very light Bruce in the same piece, so I started with emo!Bruce and had Kal help him. I decided not to make them in a _relationship_ because that isn't really Bruce's style, and I figured that Kal would take what he could get, since I picture him as extremely patient putting up with Bruce's crap. : (Then again, there may be another one-shot in the works where they _do_ become more than "friends with benefits." We'll see how the muse feels. xP)


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